Before late summer of 2004 -before I was awakened to the depth of this danger by those lying Swiftboat ads, and by the Republican National Convention (with its vitriol and its phony postures of righteousness)""I was focused on such lovely things. I was writing a book that explores those pathways that take us into our most deeply meaningful experiences, weaving together such elements as John Muir's description of the "radiant beauty" he saw pouring out of the earth at Yosemite and as Beethoven's spiritual vision in the first movement of his 7th Symphony.
But then the menace of these Bushite forces called me away from looking at the good, the true, and the beautiful, as I became aware that, for the sake of the future of America and of the whole planet, we had to confront the evil, the false, and the ugly""for these had taken control over the greatest power on earth.
Muir and Beethoven and all the rest of those who have shown us the way to what is wonderful in life then became for me like the scene depicted on the famous shield of Achilles in The Iliad""a scene of human life blessed by bounty and justice and wedding celebrations, a remembrance perhaps of what is worth fighting for, but of what one has had to leave behind to go off to battle.
They, too, had lives they wanted to be living""work they wanted to be doing, sweethearts they wanted to stay with""but were instead compelled by what history had dealt them to set all that aside. Men of my father's generation not only had to interrupt their lives, they had to risk having no life at all -and hundreds of thousands of them never returned-- in order to meet the threat posed to all they valued by the rise of evil.
Looking at their example, I am able quickly to silence the voice of that inner baby-boomer who feels somehow entitled to have things the way he wants. The ease of our lives -all that we've been able to take for granted for so long""is the exception and not the rule in human experience. We have no good reason to suppose that we were promised a rose garden, that history would not some day call upon us to deal with dark and dangerous things.
For Americans more than sixty years ago, it was the rise of fascistic forces in Berlin and Tokyo that demanded such sacrifice. For us today, it is the rise of such forces in our own capital.
The challenges of these two eras have their differences, of course.
Millions of those compelled to sacrifice for World War II had to leave home and family for years to wage their struggle. Our struggle does not require that of us. The men who fought the ugly forces of fascism in Europe and in Asia were required to put their lives on the line. So far at least, we face no suck risks.
In those ways, we have it so much easier. But there are also ways in which our challenge is greater.
Though many volunteered to serve in World War II, service was nonetheless compulsory. The battles we must fight are ones for which we must draft ourselves. We have the option -and thus the temptation""of evading our responsibility to keep history from going down the road to hell.
The generation that sacrificed for victory in World War II enjoyed the inspiriting support that comes from national unity in times of crisis. We, by contrast, are compelled to confront the painful divisions in our own land, sometimes even between ourselves and people we're close to.
Sixty-four years ago, a nation of 150 million people was summoned to the struggle by their duly constituted authorities. In our moment, it is against our authorities that we must struggle.
Those who fought in World War II enjoyed the advantage of having great leaders from still earlier generations to follow. For our struggle, we are forced to search for and create our own leadership.
But the stakes in our struggle are no smaller than those for the generation that fought against fascism across the globe.
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